


Hold me forever

by Killmiinow



Series: Hadestown inspired fics [3]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Character Study, During Canon, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by Hadestown, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)'s A+ Parenting, but it's happy at the end i promise, i'm sorry this is kind of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:08:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24796696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Killmiinow/pseuds/Killmiinow
Summary: 'Rule number #1 in the Horde: don’t trust anyone.They were all trained to fight as soon as they could walk; they were taught that relationships were a weakness, a defect, that they would only bring the Horde to destruction. That survival of the fittest reigned supreme here.But Catra couldn't help but trust Adora.'A character study on both Catra and Adora; how they lost, and then found each other again.A work on how absence makes the heart grow fonder
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Series: Hadestown inspired fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788625
Comments: 11
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Another fic inspired by Hadestown! This piece is inspired by 'All I've Ever Known'. Since the song is a duet, I thought I'd split it into two chapters to carry out a character study on both Catra and Adora.
> 
> On an unrelated note, to anyone at the protests: please stay safe! And to everyone else, remember that all lives don't matter until black lives matter.

_I was alone so long_

_I didn't even know that I was lonely_

_Out in the cold so long_

_I didn’t even know that I was cold_

_Turned my collar to the wind_

_This is how it's always been_

_All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own_

* * *

An explosion

Then darkness.

Warm arms turning cold.

That was all Catra remembered from before the Horde.

And the Horde wasn’t pleasant either; it was a pit of despair, sucking the youth out of its inhabitants early. There weren’t many rules in the Horde, but adhering to them was necessary for survival.

Rule number #1 in the Horde: don’t trust anyone.

They were all trained to fight as soon as they could walk; they were taught that relationships were a weakness, a defect, that they would only bring the Horde to destruction. That survival of the fittest reigned supreme here.

There were twenty other orphans brought in at the same time as Catra.

Only five survived to basic training.

Catra took this rule to heart; she only cared for her survival and her survival only. She had seen fist hand the way only the strong survived here, fighting off the weak for resources.

Ya snooze, ya lose.

(Except losing out on the meagre rations given had much more devastating consequences than losing out on something like a skipping rope.)

She didn’t need anyone to lean on; Catra could take care of herself. As long as she got her necessities, she could and would survive.

But then Catra met Adora.

It was a chance meeting- they had been pitted against each other in basic training, armed with mere sticks. The purpose of basic training was to see who would make the cut in the Horde, and what purpose they were likely to serve; would they be adequate cannon fodder, or would they be put to more menial roles? Or could they be of more use?

Catra didn’t need a stick. Catra already knew how to fight, and her superiors knew this. Looking back, this was probably why they had chosen to pair her with Adora.

Everyone knew Adora was special, raised above the rest of the wretched orphans taken in by the Horde; she was supervised by Shadow Weaver, of all people.

(There had been some dissent among those usually charged with taking care of the orphans- Shadow Weaver wasn’t exactly known for her motherly nature, how was she going to raise a child? _She’d probably end up killing a perfectly useful soldier,_ they grumbled. All opposition came to an end when one of the more vocal care-takers disappeared.)

Catra fought with all her might; she couldn’t lose. Losing meant being too weak for the Horde and being too weak for the Horde meant not surviving. Catra had seen for herself what not surviving led to.

(Who do you think found those who failed surviving first? Certainly not the care-takers. Do you think the care-takers bothered to hide what happened to their bodies? I don’t think so either.)

But she lost. She lost this fight.

Catra lay on the cold floors of the sparring room, fighting tears. This was it; all that time, clawing anyone who tried to take her food eyes’ out, making sure that she survived, that she wouldn’t end up like the girl in the cot next to her, was for nothing. She was finished.

But then Adora put down her stick and reached out an arm to help her up, smiling, like she hadn’t just condemned Catra to a possible death sentence in the mines.

( _I’ll be fine,_ Catra had thought. _I can see in the dark. And I can hear well- I would be able to hear the avalanches before I get crushed._ )

Adora was kind. Kindness was something that killed in the Horde.

But Catra found herself reaching for that arm, for that lifeline, anyway.

* * *

_All I’ve ever known is how to hold my own_

_But now I wanna hold you, too_

* * *

Befriending Adora had its perks; it came with a level of protection.

Adora was special; she was chosen by Shadow Weaver to become something far greater than cannon fodder for the Horde. There were rumours that she was being trained to take over from Shadow Weaver, maybe even Lord Hordak when she was older.

Now that Catra was chosen by Adora, no one messed with her. None of the older cadets picked on her anymore, and Catra found herself less hungry on those cold nights. She had the chance to put on some weight, to fill out those gaunt cheeks, to survive a harsh environment like the Horde.

Better yet, Shadow Weaver had taken her as a second protégé.

Now, Catra wasn’t stupid; she knew that Shadow Weaver hadn’t taken her in because she thought she was talented or had potential. No, Shadow Weaver had only taken her in because Adora liked her, because she thought that Adora might need a playmate or target practice or whatever. But Catra wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; at least now she knew that the only one allowed to touch her was Shadow Weaver herself, and as long as she held Adora’s favour, she would be safe.

It was oh so easy to resent Adora for this. Adora, the favourite, the beloved, the only reason she was still here. She was nearly as good as Adora in most things, so why should she be forever doomed to be seen as second best?

But Adora made it _so hard._ Adora would help her up every time she tripped, clean and bandage her wounds, and share her rations with her if Catra even so much as glanced at them. She would even climb into her bed at night, wrapping her arms around Catra when either of them had nightmares.

Looking back, it was obvious Adora wasn’t meant for the Horde; she didn’t have a selfish bone in her, and without Shadow Weaver, would have probably been eaten alive the moment she had arrived. She was often nice to her fellow cadets, and saved many of them from their superiors’ wrath whenever she could.

(How do you think Kyle made it so far in the Horde?)

Sure, Adora was nice to everyone, but she was extra nice to Catra. She had a special smile reserved for her, it seemed. They would play pranks on their squad mates, chase each other during their limited recess, and curl up in bed together, whispering about whatever came to mind. They would make up stories about ruling the Horde together, defeating the princesses and saving all of Etheria from their evil grasp.

Adora made Catra go from simply being able to survive to being able to actually live.

* * *

_You take me in your arms_

_And suddenly there's sunlight all around me_

_Everything bright and warm_

_And shining like it never did before_

* * *

“Catra, stop it!”

Catra tickled Adora harder.

“Catra- oof- Catra! Stop it! We’re going to get caught!”

Catra pulled away from Adora, placing herself on the foot of the bed. “Stop being such a wuss! Let your hair down for once.” She deftly removed Adora’s ponytail. “Literally _and_ figuratively. You’re going to lose all your hair by the time you’re thirty.”

Adora glared at her. “Give it back!”

Catra smirked. “Give what back? You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“My hair tie, dummy.” Adora grumbled before freezing. “Wait, more specific? Does that mean you’ve been hiding more of my stuff? Have you got my shirts again?”

Catra looked away, slightly blushing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure, you don’t. You better have not torn them again! Shadow Weaver’s gonna kill us if you have…” Adora trailed off, looking around for her missing shirts.

Catra took this opportunity to distract Adora from her missing shirts (she was going to return them eventually, okay? She just wanted to make them smell like her. Make Adora smell like her). She took her by the arm and started dragging her out to their special perch- the one that overlooked the Fright Zone. “ _Come on,_ Adora. Stop being such a bore and stop focusing on boring things, like shirts, and come outside with me! I can’t sleep and I know you can’t either.”

Adora yelped as she was dragged away with a surprising amount of force coming from such a wiry frame. “Catra, I need _clothes_!”

Catra chose to ignore Adora, not talking until they had reached her favourite spot in the Fright Zone. It wasn’t much, just a frail sort of balcony, but it was high up, and Catra liked high up places. They helped clear her head. She knew Adora, despite her protestations, liked the perch as well; she just wasn’t a fan of how long it took her to get up there.

They finally reached that spot, and Catra sat down and wrapped her tail around her. Adora sat down beside her.

“One day, all of this is going to be ours.”

Catra looked to the person beside her. “Is that really what you want? To rule the Horde? Etheria?”

Adora looked confused for a moment. “Well, yeah. Don’t you? The two of us against the world?”

Catra looked down. “Honestly, I don’t mind where we end up. As long as I’m with you.”

She looked back at Adora, who was now gazing at her with an immeasurably fond look on her face. Something warm reared its head inside Catra- _nope, nope, nope. Not here, not now._

“This is not because I like you,” she growled, tearing her gaze from Adora’s.

Adora simply laughed. “Sure, you don’t, you sap.”

* * *

_And for a moment I forget_

_Just how dark and cold it gets_

* * *

But then Adora left.

Catra sat there in a pile of her own destruction, tears streaming down her face.

Adora had left her.

Did all of this mean nothing to her? Those late nights, quiet giggles, whispered secrets and confessions of _you’re my favourite person in the whole world_ \- did that all mean nothing to Adora? Did Adora really just see her as some sort of plaything, some sort of pet? Someone to leave behind so easily?

Catra got up, cleaning up the mess of bedding she had made. They were right. Relationships made you weak; they were a defect. She vowed never to feel that weak and vulnerable ever again.

She vowed to make Adora feel as weak as she did at this very moment.

And so, she threw herself into proving her worth to the Horde. She was strong, capable of doing everything Adora could and more; she offed the leader of the Rebellion, she brought them closer than they had ever been before to gaining control of all of Etheria.

But it still wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t enough to close the gaping whole in her chest. Try as she might, some small part of her knew that this wasn’t really what she wanted. She didn’t want to rule supreme; she just wanted to be held, to be trusted. Her heart had never really been in this.

She ignored that part of her until Double Trouble came and delivered the final blow.

* * *

_All I've ever known is how to hold my own_

_But now I wanna hold you_

_Now I wanna hold you, hold you close_

_I don't wanna ever have to let you go_

_Now I wanna hold you, hold you tight_

_I don't wanna go back to the lonely life_

* * *

And then Adora came back for her.

Catra didn’t remember much of her time chipped; most of it was just a green haze of nothingness.

She remembered going under in that green pool and then a constant presence in her head. Well, actually, more like thousands of constant presences; they all just sounded and felt the same.

But she remembered Adora’s face when she first saw her entering Prime’s throne room, flanked by clones.

She remembered words coming out of her mouth that weren’t entirely her own, but still felt true.

She remembered sinking her claws into flesh and the pain in Adora’s eyes.

She remembered a cold hand at the back of her neck, an electrocuting pain, and then nothingness.

Glimmer later told her she was dead for a good few minutes after they had got her out.

Adora refused to talk about it.

The next thing Catra remembered was a sensation of warmth throughout her body, and a light overcoming her. Before she knew it, she was coughing, opening her eyes cautiously to see what new mind game Prime had twisted up for her now.

She looked up and saw Adora, tears streaming down her face.

Never in a million years had Catra expected this outcome; once more, Adora protecting her, cradling her in her arms, holding her close to make sure that this wasn’t a dream; like if she let her go, Catra would disappear.

Catra passed out after that for a long time. Prime’s control had taken a lot out of her, but nonetheless sleep did not come easily for her. She kept having flashes of her time on his ship, of him trying to get back into her head.

A few hours later she was awoken by Adora.

This was all too good to be true; there was no way Adora had come back for her after all she’d done. There was no way Adora still genuinely cared for her after she had left her at the mercy of Shadow Weaver. This all had to be a result of Adora’s messed up martyr-hero complex, right?

So Catra pushed Adora away. Because pushing her away, no matter how much she longed to feel those arms around her, to be held like she was loved again, was better than getting close and subsequently getting hurt again.

It wasn’t until Adora was pinning her against the cabin wall, staring down at her coldly before giving way to a more dejected expression, did she realise that maybe it was worth giving their friendship a shot once more.

“Please, just stay.”

* * *

_Now I wanna hold you, hold you close_

_I don't wanna ever have to let you go_

* * *

The rest of the it was a blur.

Catra found Melog; someone who got her, who seemed to know exactly how she was feeling and how to remedy it.

Then they returned to Etheria, where they found that a good chunk of the population had been chipped. Catra found herself rubbing the back of her neck more than once.

Then Catra left Adora, after the events at Arxia, before Adora could leave her; she couldn’t watch her die, not so soon after she had finally found her way back to her again. Adora and her damn martyr complex just couldn’t say no to Shadow Weaver. No, of course, Adora had to sacrifice herself and save the world. Of course, Adora had to choose everyone else over her own happiness.

Over Catra.

But Catra couldn’t stay away from Adora for long. She came running back, so desperate to save the one she loved ( _loved? Yes. Loved)_ that she even managed to stand up to the old hag that had been a mother figure (albeit a twisted one) to her all those years.

Then she found Adora, half dead, and she helped her get to the Heart of Etheria, before her dumbass collapsed, unable to transform into She-Ra. Catra couldn’t bear it; she was going to lose Adora no matter what? Why did it have to be her that took the failsafe? Why did it always have to be her?

And so Catra, convinced that she was going to lose the light of her life, confessed her love to her.

And then Adora woke up and reciprocated her feelings. And they kissed and saved the universe.

* * *

_Say that you’ll hold me forever_

_Say that the wind won't change on us_

_Say that we'll stay with each other_

_And it will always be like this_

* * *

Catra woke up cocooned in blankets, next to her wife, laying in her arms.

_Her wife._

Sometimes, Catra couldn’t believe it; this had to be some sick sort of simulation, convincing her that everything was fine, when in reality, they were all under Prime’s control and he had Adora and-

Catra took a deep breath, grounding herself using the exercises Perfuma had taught her.

She looked around, noting all evidence that proved that this was real, that they were all okay, that _Adora_ was okay.

She looked upon Adora. Her golden hair pooled around her shoulders, nearly waist length now; the small scar on her left eyebrow, a memento from a particularly hostile planet they had visited; the imprint of the failsafe on her chest, peeking past her shirt’s neckline.

Catra felt the life growing within her stir.

It had been over ten years since the Heart of Etheria, and life couldn’t be better. Adora and Catra had moved out of Brightmoon, into a little cottage at the edge of the Whispering Woods. Brightmoon had held too many memories of the past, and Catra wasn’t suited to the constant presence of people and the hustle and bustle of city life.

Besides, it was nice to have some privacy; _some people_ had clearly never learnt how to knock.

They had gotten married and had just started a family; just three more months until they welcomed their little bundle of joy into the world.

 _Her child would never have to live in fear,_ Catra thought fiercely, rubbing her stomach. _They wouldn’t never have to find out the difference between living and surviving._

“Catra?”

Catra allowed herself to be snatched away from her thoughts. “Yes, my love?”

“Go back to sleep. I can hear you thinking.”

Catra chuckled. “Hey, that’s my line.”

Adora simply pulled her in closer.

Catra sighed happily, allowing sleep to overcome her once more, settling into her wife’s warm arms.

All she’d ever known was how to hold her own; but now she had more. Now she could be held forever, and relax, any way the wind would blow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Adora's turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, I guess

_I don't know how or why_

_Or who am I that I should get to hold you_

* * *

Adora didn’t remember much before the Horde.

Scratch that, she knew nothing. Her coherent first memory was of Shadow Weaver tucking her into bed, telling her the story of the ‘Headless Princess’.

Yeah, probably not the _most_ suitable bedtime story for a child.

Adora always remembered being singled out from the rest of the cadets. She didn’t abide by the same rules as the rest of the orphans in the Horde; she always got extra rations when she was good, and anyone who dared mess with her ended up disappearing, and returning a week later, unable to speak and jumping at any touch.

(Yeah, looking back, Shadow Weaver was definitely not suited to overseeing the cadets.)

Now, to any other cadet, Adora’s life sounded like luxury; guaranteed food and protection from bullies. But neglect could save you from a myriad of other problems.

Namely, the special attention from Shadow Weaver that resulted in a lifetime of a saviour complex for Adora.

Adora was always _special_ , raised above the others; she was powerful, she was stronger, she was going to do great things. She was responsible for the behaviour of her fellow cadets, and when she failed, they were punished. When they failed, it was her fault. _She should have done better._

So Adora avoided getting close to too many people. Maintain a safe distance, and then she wouldn’t hurt anybody. Don’t get too close, or then she wouldn’t be able to disappoint anyone.

But then Adora met Catra.

They were sparring, with down-sized staffs, with their superiors observing whether or not they would be of any use to the Horde. Adora wasn’t as oblivious as she seemed; she knew what would happen to those who couldn’t put up a good enough fight. And so, when she got paired with a girl, around the same age as her, but much smaller, she thought that she would tone it down to avoid having this girl being sent to the mines.

Turned out not to be a problem.

This girl was _fierce_ ; she fought Adora easily, matching her blows easily, eventually ditching the staff to fight with her bare hands. Adora was impressed and found herself wanting to find out more about this girl.

Her feelings turned to panic when the girl unsheathed her claws.

Eventually though, Adora won. On one hand, she was pleased; this meant that Shadow Weaver would be proud of her. On the other hand, however, Adora knew that she may have doomed this girl- not that the girl hadn’t put up a fight.

Adora looked down at the girl, whose eyes were now filling with tears. She didn’t want to be the reason someone choked on coal dust down in the mines. This girl also felt… _special_ , in some way- Adora couldn’t describe it.

Adora knew that if she showed her favour to this girl, she’d be safe. She knew what she had to do.

So, she held out an arm and smiled down at her.

* * *

_But when I saw you all alone against the sky_

_It's like I’d known you all along_

* * *

When she had left the Horde, Adora berated herself over and over again for not realising it sooner- Shadow Weaver had only taken Catra in as a way to control her.

Catra would be punished regularly, repeatedly told she was worthless and that the only reason she was still around was because of Adora.

Adora was told that Catra was her responsibility, that if she stepped out of line it was all Adora’s fault.

If Adora stepped out of line Catra would pay the price for it.

Looking back now, Adora could see that her lack of awareness wasn’t all her fault; she too, had been abused by Shadow Weaver, but emotionally rather than physically.

( _Its okay that you didn’t realise that, Adora,_ Perfuma had said in one of their meditation sessions. _You were a victim too- you can’t compare trauma._ )

Catra made Adora laugh, and smile, and brought light into her childhood at the Horde. It really felt like Catra had picked and stuck with her, clung to her like a limpet. Sure, Catra could be prickly; she rarely got along with the other cadets in their squadron, but always seemed to do a complete one-eighty when Adora was around.

Together, they would sneak around the Horde, climbing through the vents (okay, Catra mostly climbed around in the vents, with Adora standing watch), making up stories about the evil princesses, and fantasising about their future in the Horde.

Together, they would bring the Horde to greatness; they’d be at the forefront of it all, leading the Horde side by side.

(There was also just something that made Adora’s stomach flutter when Catra took her hand and addressed her as ‘Lord Adora’.)

Of course, all this came to an end when Adora found the sword.

She’d begged Catra for so long to join her, to come with her and make things right; to convince her that the Horde was evil.

But Catra had known all along.

_How?_ Even Adora couldn’t be that oblivious. But then again, she had always been special, hadn’t she? She had always held Shadow Weaver’s favour. It was only when she had spent countless of her initial nights in Brightmoon lying awake, staring at the ceiling, had she remembered how exactly she had met Catra. How she had used her position as a favourite of Shadow Weaver’s to make sure none of the other cadets ended up mysteriously disappearing.

But still, Adora couldn’t help but blame herself for Catra’s descent into… madness? Evil? None of those seemed to really fit the situation. She had been responsible for Catra for so long; it felt strange to no longer be responsible for the closest person in her life.

Adora realised that Catra wasn’t going to follow her to the Rebellion after the events at the Crystal Castle; she supposed it really clicked that she wasn’t responsible for her actions at all after the portal.

( _I didn’t make you pull the switch! I didn’t break the world- but I am going to fix it._ )

After the portal was deactivated, after the closest figure she had ever had to a _mother_ sacrificed herself to save the world, she fixed Catra with the most anger-filled expression she could muster.

Adora wasn’t even aware she could feel so much anger and vitriol towards one person.

But when Catra looked back at her, _no,_ back at She-Ra, with such fear and loss, she couldn’t help but want to call after her and make all of this right.

Adora tried her hardest to not think about Catra after that.

* * *

_I knew you before we met_

_And I don’t even know you yet_

_All I know is you're someone I have always known_

* * *

Then Adora broke the sword.

Then Etheria got pulled through a portal, out from Despondos into the wider universe.

Then Adora lost a member of her new family.

Adora had no idea Catra was on Horde Prime’s ship initially; she supposed it made sense, seeing as she had been in the Fright Zone at the time. It was only when she heard her voice, scratchy and staticky and raw with emotion coming through that transmission, warning her to stay away, that Catra occupied a box in her mind that wasn’t labelled _don't go there_.

( _Perfuma later told her that this kind of thinking was compartmentalisation, and that she should probably move from trying to stick things in boxes and let her emotions overlap and intermingle. Adora disagreed, but hey, she might as well._ )

Adora couldn’t stop the tears that filled her eyes when that transmission cut off.

Adora also couldn’t help but sob in the darkness after they had caught Glimmer, and after Glimmer had told them how she got out.

( _She said she wanted to do one good thing in her life. She said she was doing it for you._ )

It may have been after the events at the dead planet with the power crystals (Adora still wasn’t sure how they worked) that the gang had formally decided to rescue Catra, but Adora knew that she had already decided what she was going to, and would have flown alone into Horde Prime’s if she had to.

It turned out flying into his ship and standing up to Horde Prime was the easy part.

The hard part was seeing Catra like _that._

Stripped of her will, a mere puppet, a shadow of what she had once been. This was not the Catra Adora had known and grown up with.

Catra was clearly not acting of her own volition; though they had fought before, many a time, they had never aimed to kill each other. Hurt each other, sure, hell, even maim, but never kill. But here Catra was, digging her claws into her thigh, her arm, her _back_ , seeking not only to destroy her physically but emotionally too.

What was worse was that Adora could imagine Catra saying those words that Horde Prime had put into her mouth clearly in any other situation.

But then Catra pulled through.

Prime’s lack of control lasted only a few seconds at best at the start. But then, after Adora had slammed Catra into that screen, after that terrifying moment when the control interface blew up and tossed them both to the other side of the room did the control cease for a few minutes.

Long enough to talk. Long enough to take back control.

Catra’s words controlled by Horde Prime may have hurt Adora, but Catra’s words spoken by her felt like a knife in her chest.

Just as she was about reach Catra, take her hand, just as it seemed that Catra had broken out of Prime’s control, he took back over.

And then Catra fell.

And Adora, without hesitating, fell with her.

It was by some miracle (or magical She-Ra powers) that Adora had only maybe just broken both of her legs from the fall. Catra wasn’t so lucky.

It was another miracle that, somehow, Adora’s grief at looking down at the lifeless body of the love of her life aroused such an ire that She-Ra was summoned.

It was a blur after that. She-Ra, roused by a mighty anger, fought off any incoming clones. Adora didn’t really remember much until they were back on the ship, flying away as far from Horde Prime as possible, did Adora start to take things in. She knelt on the hard floor and took Catra into her arms. She didn’t even know if this would work; hell, she didn’t even know she could transform into She-Ra until less than half an hour ago

But then Catra woke up, though weak, but _alive_ in Adora’s arms, coughing but managing to sputter her usual greeting. Adora couldn’t reply- she just held Catra as tight as she could, as if to say that she was never letting go again.

Catra embraced back her just as tightly.

* * *

_Suddenly I’m holding the world in my arms_

* * *

The rest of the war ended so quickly that it was hard to believe that it had raged on for decades on Etheria alone; centuries in the rest of the universe.

One moment, Adora’s trying to get through to Catra, shouting at her that she had never hated her, and the next moment, she’s flying around in space as She-Ra, hair flying in non-existent wind; half an hour later, Catra has joined them on the ship’s floor, eating Glimmer’s dumplings.

Then they’re on Krytis, with a selectively telepathic magic space cat joining their crew, and then they’re back on Etheria, fighting their comrades.

Time seems to fly by so quickly until Catra left her.

Adora guessed she deserved it; after all, she left Catra first.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less. It hurt more, in a way, than when Catra first turned against her. She could recognise those emotions then; betrayal, jealousy, anger. But at that moment, Adora didn’t entirely understand why Catra left; she got that it was because Adora constantly put herself in danger, never letting it be just _them_ , together in peace.

But now she gets that it was because Catra couldn’t bear to see her leave her again; she left before Adora could leave her.

And then the time at the Heart seemed like an eternity. She was fine, at first, carrying the failsafe as She-Ra, off to save the universe. She even took advice from Mara, thinking, that when this was all over, she would look for Catra. She would apologise, and maybe- maybe more?

But then Prime’s virus kicked in, and she couldn’t transform, and she was going to die- but that wasn’t what scared her. No, it was that she had failed- everyone else would suffer for her mistakes, because she _wasn’t good enough._

And then Catra came back, though it seemed all for nought. Adora couldn’t transform. The whole universe would be destroyed because of her- _it was all her fault. She wasn’t strong enough- she wasn’t enough._

She felt herself slipping, vaguely registering Catra calling out for her, before waking up in a familiar, yet foreign, place. _Brightmoon_.

“Just let me brush it!”

Adora jerked towards the door, letting the scene play out in front of her. All of them, at least five years older, based on the length of Catra’s ponytail, and the just-about-there lines under all of their eyes.

It was beautiful.

But then, of course, Horde Prime had to show up and ruin it- of course he couldn’t let Adora have this one thing before she died.

“Adora!”

Adora snapped open her eyes. _Catra._ Catra, calling out to her, convincing her to come back.

She could do this. She _would_ do this- for Catra, for Bow and Glimmer, for all her friends.

For the universe.

“Don’t you get it? I love you. I always have. So please, just this once, stay!”

So Adora stayed.

* * *

_I'm gonna hold you forever_

_The wind will never change on us_

_Long as we stay with each other_

* * *

Adora could sense Catra staring at her before she even opened her eyes.

Still not opening her eyes, she took everything in using her other senses, just like Perfuma had taught her.

The scent of the lavender and chamomile potpourri that Catra liked, so had brought all the way from Plumeria; the sound of her wife breathing.

The feeling of her wife holding her close, the small but noticeable swell of her stomach.

_Oh yeah- that was happening._

It had been over ten years since the Heart of Etheria, and, while it was truly impossible to fully leave war behind, Adora and Catra were trying their best.

They had left Brightmoon for a small cottage at the edge of the Whispering Woods- close enough to still reach their weekly meetings on what village needed help, or what mess left behind from the Horde needed cleaning up, but far enough to have their own space.

Their own space to start a family.

She registered Catra shifting, confirming that she was awake.

“Catra?” she called out.

“Yes, my love?”

Adora pouted sleepily. “Go back to sleep. I can hear you thinking.”

Catra chuckled softly. “Hey, that’s my line. You’re usually the one overthinking early in the morning, y’know.”

Adora, too sleepy to dignify this with a response, simply opted to pull her wife in closer. They had all the time in the world, and god knew they would come to appreciate times like this when the baby came, based of Glimmer and Bow’s stories.

She felt Catra settle into her arms. And she knew she would hold her forever, any way the wind blew.

* * *

_The it will always be like this_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I totally headcanon Catradora living in their cottagecore lesbian life to the max.
> 
> I think that's enough angst for me- I'm going back to writing happy things for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!


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